


Cosa Nostra

by tea_petty



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Affairs, Blow Jobs, Cuckolding, F/M, Italian Mafia, Penis In Vagina Sex, Riding, Smut, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:19:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24695905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_petty/pseuds/tea_petty
Summary: Time is up for Lovino, his lover, and this thing of theirs.
Relationships: South Italy (Hetalia)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Cosa Nostra

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my Tumblr; tea-pettiest

The clock. 

He could hear that clock with its moving hands, fidgeting at each second as it scrambled to make sure the hours and minutes came out even. If there was one thing Lovino knew, it was that you couldn’t cook _those_ books. Any numbers man who could figure out how would’ve had this whole, fucked up world wrapped around his pinkie finger. 

Instead, this world felt like it was wrapped around him, crushing closer and closer, like a collar around his neck, or a plastic bag around his face. 

Speaking of his face, it fucking _hurt_.

The left side of his face felt heavier than the right side, blown up at the tender place where her husband had so generously planted his fist. His lower lip also felt big and achy, though the stiffness of it told him that there had been an abrasion there evacuating blood up until it started to scab over.

The bed was too pretty underneath him; too manicured, the way hotel beds were, to be truly comfortable. The layers of blankets overlapped in luxurious earth tones that gave one the impression they were dripping in gold and bronze. 

The bathroom had a shower that was really the whole bathroom; rustic stone plating the floor and walls, forming little nooks where one could sit – if there was a purpose for that in the shower. The water rained down from the ceiling. It was a glamorous room, and Lovino would’ve expected nothing less from Don Parri. Still though, Lovino couldn’t have cared less; it was the woman in the room, gingerly pressing ice to his lip, that he found truly incredible.

He felt the cold numb him and then it started to ache a bit and he winced away – playfully dancing from her grasp, though if only to watch her come after him with the bag of ice again.

“Sit still,” she scolded softly, her brow pulled into a furrow.

This time when she pressed the ice to him, he let her, even going so far as to hold her hand against him.

His eyes searched her face, desperate to know what she’d thought as he and her husband had exchanged punches by the bar.

Had she been rooting for him? Was she impressed at how he’d taken each blow like a man? He wished he could’ve shown her just how far he’d have gone for her.

He swallowed, a twinge of pain making him wince as he did so.

“Penny for your thoughts?” His voice sounded hoarse like his vocal cords were clumped with blood clots.

She sighed, her eyes meeting his. 

His face; angelically, classically handsome, made her weak in the knees. The way he looked at her, made her weak in the heart. That was terrifying.

“I think you did a dumb thing tonight,” she said finally. “And I think now that-” she swallowed. This was hard. Her voice felt like it was stuck in her throat. She wanted it to stay there forever so he could stay with her. 

“Now that my husband knows I think it’s time we stopped.“

Lovino’s face contorted into disbelief. This disbelief was tinged with a hurt he wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge because that would mean it was done.

“Your husband knew about the affair. It was his idea, you said so yourself.”

“That’s not what he saw tonight.”

Lovino held her stare. He watched her fiercely back, daring her to say it out loud.

“Why did you hit him?”

“You know why.”

“No, honestly, I don’t.” She had raised her voice; she was yelling now. “What did you expect to happen? What did you think would come of this?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Lovino mumbled, looking elsewhere like her eyes burned him. This wasn’t totally untrue. “What matters is what we choose to do now.”

She scoffed, bitter.

“And what is that exactly? I leave my husband and run off with you?”

Lovino’s heart leaped at this. God, he wanted nothing more.

“As if.”

Ah, and there it was. The other shoe dropping to kick him when he was already down.

“I mean, where would we go?”

Lovino liked to think his home in Italy. Somewhere with good food, good weather, and good wine.

“Where would we stay?”

Together. In a little house they could have on a meandering street close to the market.

“My husband would find us and _kill_ us. Never mind what Don Parri would do-“

Her voice broke off after a valiant attempt to hold steady. Lovino stroked the pad of his thumb across the back of her hand.

Yes, these were problems. Big problems, though even big problems seemed pretty small when sitting next to his heart with her in the room – engorged, swollen, and terribly misplaced.

That was a little bit sore too, he thought, his free hand idly reaching up to feel at his chest, checking for more tenderness.

She sniffled and when she spoke again, her voice sounded weak.

“I was supposed to get information from you – information that would render you obsolete. Information that could get you out of the way so-“

Lovino knew. His beef with her husband started long before Lovino started sleeping with his wife.

Don Parri was none too fond of him. It had only been because of Lovino’s own uncle, that he’d remained ‘safe’ so far. He’d probably pissed away whatever influence his uncle's legacy had tonight.

“The only thing I learned though, was how to be _loved._ ”

Lovino blinked at her, his eyes swimming with tears. Hers were already streaking her cheeks. Her nose was red, as were her eyes. He wanted to kiss all of that away.

He moved his hand from her cheek, letting the ice pack fall and sink into the duvet. He shifted her hand so that her palm was at his lips, where he pressed a kiss to it. 

At least she had that.

He could still remember the first time they’d made love. It had been all teeth and the feverish heat of their arousals. He’d taken her needing to scratch an itch – he hadn’t expected it to be anything more than that. 

She’d gone on an errand for her husband but had stayed out of a duty to her heart.

At the feel of his lips at her hand, something crested inside of her. 

Her heart swelled, heat dropping and settling between her legs.

Lovino was hyperaware of her proximity, of how easy it would be for him to just wrap his arms around her and pull her down onto his lap. The sweater and skirt she was wearing were form-fitting; Lovino traced the slope of her waist as it led to her hip. He wanted to feel her beneath him, trapped in those clothes, trapped beneath him.

He wanted to bury himself in her so deep that her husband and his goonies would never find Lovino.

He felt his cock stir. Lovino felt weird – almost ashamed, at the bizarre mix of arousal and melancholy. It was like where the ocean mysteriously split as warm, tropical waters kissed colder, churning ones. They didn’t go together, different as they were, and they couldn’t really mix to make one lukewarm _thing_. Instead, they were destined to coexist, and the world around would do what it wanted.

Lovino would too.

His hands went to her warm, soft side, fingers digging into the luxurious weave of her sweater and pulling her down on to him. Lovino had been so tunnel-visioned by his own needs that he hadn’t even noticed that she’d been reaching for him before he had reached for her. That her arms had been moving up to his shoulders, her head bowing low so that her lips could meet his; reciprocating the act before Lovino had decided to even do it.

This was how they worked, as two moving parts of one instrument. 

She sighed as her lips found his, melding into soft, frantic movements. The kiss lacked the bite to be demanding – rather, this one was begging, for more time, for more of each other, for whatever last crumbs and remnants of the other they could collect. Both were correct in their dread that this would be the last time for them.

Their warm breath mingled and her hands smoothed up the sensitive slope of his neck to his hair, holding him more desperately to her. Lovino’s hands slid down to her butt, loving how her tight skirt pulled taut over her curves. He gave her ass a squeeze and hoisted her onto his lap, jerking her against his erection as it strained in his trousers.

She gasped at the feeling and then her kiss picked up into a force that sent him falling back onto the mattress. She rocked her hips against him and they both moaned at the sweet friction that bloomed between them. 

She pulled back to watch him; the yellow light of the room added fire to his skin – he was practically glowing, the injuries he sustained to his face not even able to cast a sliver of a shadow on how handsome he was. His freckles and green eyes made him look almost fresh and green himself – young features on a face that had weathered entirely too much.

If only they’d met in another life, far outside where this mess could’ve reached them. 

Lovino’s hand came up to caress the side of her face and her eyes fluttered shut as he delicately trailed his fingers from temple to jaw.

“ _Amore_ ,” he whispered.

Her heart throbbed raggedly inside of her and she kissed him again.

Her fingers found the waistband of his trousers and she broke the kiss again to see what she was doing. Lovino propped himself up on his forearms, watching her. Under his stare and her own panicked desperation, she felt less like his lover and more like a hostage. Her fingers were clumsy; her hands shaking something terrible.

Gently, Lovino pushed her hands away and undid his belt for her. 

An itching, shameful heat gathered at her cheeks.

She whispered her thanks and dragged his pants down over his hips. 

When he lifted himself so that she could pull them off, her hands felt something in his back pocket – a small, circular ridge with something else hard and edged perched somewhere along the circumference. 

It was a very small object but in her hands, it was as heavy as stone. Lovino’s eyes met hers, knowing she’d found it. She wanted to cry.

Good God, he’d actually wanted to run away with her, even though they both knew well that there was no running – not from Don Parri, not from her husband, not from the shitty, depraved choices they’d made that brought them here.

She gave his trousers another tug, pulling them off his legs and letting them fall to the floor.

She wrenched his underwear down too, trying to focus on how his cock sprang up with its release. His musky scent curled around her and she prowled over him, straddling him as she crouched over his erection.

She knew his body well, was so familiar with his girth, and the way he fit perfectly in her – whichever way she took him. He had that little freckle on the underside of his cock, just next to the thick vein that ran up the length. 

She remembered when she’d see a man naked and avoid the sight of what he carried between his legs; they were sort of the bane of life. Men with cocks could waltz through life – sex, money, success – it was in the palm of their hand if only they had the sense to grab it. Wars had been fought at the whims of it. 

Look under the desk at any school and find them scrawled all over the place in black marker. Check your phone at two in the morning and find that someone from fuck knows has sent you a picture of his.

Even her husband’s had made her uncomfortable to a point – it was too big. When they fucked, it was like he was robbing her of something. When they had sex, it was something he did to her, not an act they performed together.

It was different with Lovino, who fit her in every possible way. 

In size, in the way his body molded to hers, in how he held her and whispered sweet nothings to her in his native tongue.

She wanted to tell him all of this. 

What came out was; “He _is_ bigger.”

Lovino flinched, his pride wounded. 

Her meaning was unmistakable to him; the ‘he’ obviously referring to her husband, and the remark being in direct conversation with some of the vitriol the two men had spat at each other as they fought earlier.

“Shut up,” he muttered, turning his head away. 

His bruised ego was completely forgotten the moment her lips closed around his cock. 

She took as much of him in her mouth as she could, her hand closing around where she couldn’t reach. She bobbed on top of him, hollowing her cheeks and grinding the flat of her tongue against his engorged tip. 

“ _Ah_ , fuck-“

His head fell back against the duvet, Lovino pinched his eyes shut, his brow pulling into a deep furrow.

She quickened her pace, her hands moving to his hips to hold him down as she relaxed her throat muscles and took him deeper – all of him.

Lovino moaned loudly. 

Her tight, hot mouth around him had him racing towards his release already. His fingers threaded in her hair, slowing her progress, prolonging the lifespan of his own arousal. 

His throat was tight and he felt strangely choked.

“Wait,” he grunted.

She paused. He was painfully hard now, his cock twitching in anticipation of spilling every last drop of himself into that pretty, little mouth of hers. 

When he came tonight, he wanted it to be inside of her, where she could feel him so intimately, it was like they were one. He wanted her to feel him throb beneath her, inside her, like a second heartbeat.

When he opened his eyes to look at her, her eyes wide and questioning, her mouth still on him, he was torn.

She was breaking his fucking heart every minute. Even now, he was painfully aware of how _not_ -his she was.

“Not like this,” he said, his voice tight.

She understood what he meant. She had been thinking the same thing but had been unwilling to deprive him of anything. She released him.

“How do you want me then?”

What a question to ask, as if any of it mattered when all he truly wanted was to have her – something that her question insinuated would be the result. Both of them knew this wasn’t as true as they’d like it to be. He would’ve taken her as a nun at that point. God could have her soul and body so long as he could keep her heart.

 _I want you wanting me_ , he thought. When he looked at her, his mouth went dry. She was already easing the zipper down the side of her skirt and wriggling out of it.

Her panties followed, dropping to the floor. He heard the soft tap of their weight; the crotch had been soaked through.

She was crawling over him again, stalking him like prey. He’d have never tried to run.

Lovino still hadn’t technically answered though as he watched her, his eyes falling from her face to the curls between her thighs. He could see that his answer was irrelevant. 

She sunk down on him and Lovino watched as he disappeared inside of her. His heart felt like it was pounding so hard, it might beat right out of his chest. Or maybe wear itself out and stop entirely. 

His head fell back against the duvet again and he groaned.

“ _Fuck_.”

He was surprised at how easily she took him – he wondered at what point she’d started getting wet. Her breathing roughened; he could feel it in the tautness of her body and hear it above him. 

It wasn’t the easiest entrance he’d ever made, but she did take him all the way.

Seated on his lap she sighed, resting for a moment. 

Then she lifted herself up until only his tip was inside of her, and slammed down on him again. Lovino let out a choked sound. Her pace was even and not especially hurried; it took time and effort to raise herself above him without his help, though gravity helped on the way down.

He found himself searching for the slap of her against his hips. 

There was a knock somewhere as the bedpost hit the wall. Both of them startled at this the first time they heard it, mistaking it for a knock on the door. 

She pumped herself on him like a piston, riding him, occasionally circling her hips to press him for a moan when she felt he was being too quiet. 

Lovino didn’t intend to be – his head ached and his heart was sore. 

She was still ecstasy to him.

Again he found himself heading towards his release. The tightness of her was deliriously good and he thought she was getting even wetter. He could feel a dampness on his thighs, heard the wet sound of their coupling.

She moaned – a breathy, light sound.

Lovino’s cock twitched in response.

“ _Ah_ ,” he gasped. It was all going to end too fast. “I’m-“

Just like that the friction was gone.

She lifted herself off of him and made a frustrated little noise at his absence, her sex hovering above his cock, but no longer on it. A drop of her slick fell on him. The intense pressure that had been building up at his crotch fell again.

Lovino groaned.

“So this is what this is then? You’re punishing me?”

He was half-teasing her. In reality, he was grateful that he hadn’t finished yet – that they weren’t finished, even if he was uncomfortably hard.

“I am,” she said, dead serious. 

How dare he make her love him like this, especially now, when it could kill them both with the timely recklessness of a bomb.

She waited a few more moments before sheathing him in her sex again, wanting to make sure that he wouldn’t come the instant he was in her. She settled for undoing some of the buttons of his shirt and running her hands along his chest. Dark, thick, curly hair – the same as on his arms – covered his chest and ran a trail down his belly and between his hips. 

He was so handsome. His face, fine-boned, and freckled seemed more delicate than the rest of him. It made her love him all the more. How well-suited for him; so simultaneously rugged and sensitive, so achingly tender and harsh.

Just being in the same room with him was enough to get her wet.

She wished all this was enough because at that moment, she felt like she wanted him with a magnitude that could crumble the earth. 

It made her sadder still. She couldn’t fuck their problems away.

She trailed her nails lightly across his torso and Lovino sighed under her luxurious touch.

Then, she pushed herself back onto him and again she rode him, maintaining her firm hand on her lover’s pleasure. Her eyes were trained on his face, watching every twitch and furrow of his brow. His lips parted, and she leaned down to kiss him. 

She had planned on keeping him at an arm’s length during their lovemaking today but that had proved impossible.

His hands came up around her back, holding her to him and she moaned, her own arousal suddenly spiking. Her hips continued to roll against him down below. Lovino’s hands smoothed down her back to her hips, suddenly guiding her at a faster pace. 

She whined – this _definitely_ wasn’t part of the plan but now she couldn’t bring herself to care. He was making her feel too good. She felt herself clench around him haphazardly.

While she was afraid her hold on him was slipping, Lovino was surrendering himself to her entirely.

This was it – she had all the control and he was powerless to do anything but let her have it. 

As her hips rose above his again, Lovino’s grip on her tightened and he slammed her back down again, his cock reaching further into her than before. 

She squeezed around him once and then once more. She didn’t have to say anything; Lovino was familiar enough with her body to know that she was close.

It felt too soon for her though admittedly, she’d been reeling for him since she’d watched him stand up to her husband like that. She felt ashamed to think this, though the bruising on his face while sending a pang through her chest also sent heat straight down to pool between her legs.

Lovino was fucking her now, bringing her body down on his frantically as he struggled to pull her climax from her. His fingers flexed against her ass just shy of painful. Now each time he hilted in her he was reaching a spot that had her jolting in his grip. She squeezed again.

“Tell me something,” she panted.

“What’s that?”

“Just…whatever, tell me whatever it is you wanted to tell me tonight. 

Or, ask me.”

She was rutting aggressively against him, grinding her hips against his every time she landed at his lap as if to intensify the feel of him inside of her. Her voice was strained.

Damn it, she was talking about the ring from earlier. 

Lovino would’ve given this woman almost anything she asked for, but a proposal? With her husband probably plotting a way to make his death look like an accident and her wedding ring still on her finger? He couldn’t give it to her like that.

Lovino waited too long to speak, he just kept pulling her back to him until that’s all they were – pulling apart and reuniting.

She shuddered on top of him as she came, nodding into his chest. 

He felt more wetness seep out of her and down his length. He felt a gentler, blotted wetness at his chest. Tears?

Truth was, nothing really mattered. Not the fight or who won it. While the fact that she was married would probably be his cause of death, neither the marriage itself nor her scumbag husband mattered either, at least not in any real way.

No matter what, Lovino would be pressed under her like this. 

Her hips, her thumb – whatever. 

He wasn’t her husband, but he was bespoke to her in a very permanent way, even if the lone contract of their bond was the mere imprint they had on each other’s hearts.

Lovino was a goner either way. Technically, they all were, he just would be gone a lot sooner. 

Hell, he was gone now.

Lovino spilled himself inside of her.

She was slumped over him, damp and struggling to catch her breath. 

Lovino held her tightly to him, too afraid of what came next. He didn’t see any future in which they could be together like this again.

He rolled them gently onto their sides, his arms still around her. 

When he pulled out, she twitched in his grasp, oversensitive as his softening length dragged against her slick walls.

He looked down and caught the musky scent of sex as it wafted up. 

When he pulled out, he took some of his seed with him. It dribbled out of her, blotting a milky white at her thighs. He wondered what would happen if he’d put a baby in her.

He hadn’t initially realized he’d said this aloud.

She shifted closer to him, again nodding into his chest. His shirt hung open on him and so when she buried her face into him, it was her cheek against his bare skin that soothed them both.

Lovino pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, drawing in the sweaty, damp scent of her hair. He also caught the faint scent of roses – she’d used the perfume he’d gifted her with.

“Our kid,” she started. “Would have your eyes,” her hand rose to gently stroke across his cheek. “Your cute freckles too.”

Lovino’s lips curved into a small smile.

“Your hair?”

“Your temper.”

They both laughed, breathy, and private. 

“So, it would be a boy then?” 

“Not necessarily.”

“A little girl?” Lovin’s voice was thick.

“Sure then, a little girl.” She tried her best not to follow behind him. “With your big, big heart.”

Trailing her hands blindly over him, she eventually found his hand where her fingers threaded through his. He lifted it up and pressed a kiss to each one of hers.

“We’d have a comfy little house with a yard for the kids to play in.”

“With a trellis? And a nice garden?”

She looked up at him, eyelashes beaded with tears, cheeks dewy. 

Her eyes were puffy and rimmed with black; her mascara had smudged a little.

Lovino chuckled and kissed her on the forehead.

“Whatever you’d like. I would have a restaurant nearby – small, but doing well enough.”

She hummed in approval; he was such a good cook.

“I would come home to you and the kids every night.” 

His voice was softer now; she could feel his breath at her ear.

“I would kiss you on the cheek,” he did exactly this. “Hold you in my arms.” His arms were already around her and her eyes fluttered shut. “We would be happy,” he whispered.

He could practically see this life they’d built up unfold before him; the warm home with its sandy stone walls and trellis with creeping ivy. He could catch the scent of spices in the air and hear the bubbling laugh of children. It made him think briefly of his friend Toni, who he’d left in Spain. Toni had wanted the family and restaurant too.

Of course even the softest, and most achingly tender of fantasies couldn’t be solely Lovino’s.

He tried to focus on the feel of her in his arms and imagined on what it might be like to come home to that every night – even if he still had to keep his dingy, sad apartment, even if he had to keep running jobs for Don Parri. If he could only have _this_.

“Yeah,” she sighed against him. “Happy.”

He could tell when she’d fallen asleep when her breath had lulled into a soft ebb and wane at his chest, gently stirring the hair there. 

He knew the last thing he should be doing right now is laying down but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her. Besides, any place where she wasn’t in his arms was hell. Only a fool ventured into hell willingly and alone.

Lovino stayed perfectly still and took in her scent with each deep breath. Even when he started hearing harried footsteps outside the room. Even when he could make out the shadows from through the gap beneath the door. He remained perfectly still, his own eyes falling shut.

It was as he had said before – it didn’t really matter. 

Everyone was sort of a goner anyway.


End file.
